


so can we pretend, sweetly

by erce3



Series: & all my thoughts of you (could heat or cool the room) [pokémon sumo] [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions, Pocket Monsters: Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon | Pokemon Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, this isnt a texting fic but there are texts idk, two useless gays who are bad at dating and also feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 22:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14578527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erce3/pseuds/erce3
Summary: gladion (3:12 AM): Hi, my name is Gladion. You put up an ad on Craigslist a couple weeks ago. Are your services still available?(basically: Gladion hires Hau off of Craigslist to be his fake boyfriend & things go from there).





	so can we pretend, sweetly

**Author's Note:**

> this literally took me months & this is like years after sumo but whatever i love two (2) useless boys

**gladion (3:12 AM)** : Hi, my name is Gladion. You put up an ad on Craigslist a couple weeks ago. Are your services still available?  


 

 

It takes five hours and fourteen minutes to get a response. Gladion thinks about texting someone else, but this one — his name is Hau, according to the post — seems like the perfect candidate. He’s certain of that, at least, so he gives him a couple hours to respond.

 

After all, there aren’t any comments on the Craigslist ad, it’s old enough that Plumeria won’t find it, and he’s— well, Gladion thinks, looking at the pictures listed and feeling something in his chest hollow, there’s no denying Hau’s… _attractive_.

 

Five hours and fourteen minutes later, his phone chimes, and Gladion blinks. He doesn’t get a single response, exactly. He gets three.

 

 **unknown number (8:26 AM)** : uh man that’s from two months ago

 **unknown number (8:26 AM)** : you mean the fake boyfriend ad right

 **unknown number (8:28 AM)** : bc like. i can do it?

 

The lack of grammar and spelling annoys Gladion, and so do the three texts where there could have been one sentence. But — well, it’s not enough to make Gladion text someone else. He tells himself it’s because it’s annoying to go through pages and pages on Craigslist, because he’d only found one candidate that had been “up to standard”, and definitely not because of — anything _else_.

 

 **gladion (8:32 AM)** : Great. How much do you want to be paid?

 **unknown number (8:32 AM)** : paid?

 **gladion (8:34 AM)** : Usually people exchange goods and services — here, services — for money.

 **gladion (8:34 AM)** : I’d assume you’re familiar with the idea.

 **unknown number** **(8:36)** : dude are you

 **unknown number** **(8:36)** : are you sure you want a fake boyfriend

 

Gladion frowns, trying to figure out what _that_ means. It stings, though he can’t figure out if Hau’s refusing to act as his fake boyfriend, or if it’s just some sort of response to Gladion’s own (not very nice) message. He’s halfway through parsing out what Hau’s written when his phone beeps again and he reflexively looks down.

 

 **unknown number** **(8:38)** : seriously dude i made the page on a dare i dont need any money

 **gladion (8:40 AM)** : I insist.

 **gladion (8:41 AM)** : We can discuss it further over lunch, maybe?

 **unknown number** **(8:41)** : our first date! ;) ;) how do we feel about pizza

 **unknown number** **(8:41)** : like.

 **unknown number** **(8:41)** : as a couple

 

He saves Hau’s number as _Obnoxious Boyfriend_ and wonders why, exactly, he dug this hole for himself in the first place.

 

 

  
If you’d asked Hau what he’d expected his week would be like, he would have answered something along the lines of coffee, an all-nighter for his Fundamentals of Ecology class, and maybe— _maybe_ —milkshakes with Sun, if they could afford it. He had not expected a text from someone at _three in the morning_ semi-asking him out.

 

When Hau texts Moon the screenshots, the only reply is a voice recording of her howling. _i didn’t expect someone to respond_ , he types, and truth be told, he is completely mystified. He gets a single, blurry selfie and manages to pry out Gladion’s age (twenty), though it takes a lot of coaxing.

 

They end up texting a lot. Hau tells himself it’s because Gladion needs to hammer out details, because half of their conversations so far are just jabs and insults — towards Hau, of course. But from what Hau can see, he has to admit Gladion is attractive. The selfie may look like some sort of _cryptid spotted!_ photo (Moon’s words), but Hau can make out strong features and pretty eyes.

 

Before class that morning, Hau sits with Moon and sips some terrible, watery Pokébean coffee. He’s trying to explain the whole thing, but there’s — well, there’s a lot to explain. “I don’t even know exactly why I’m being hired,” Hau says with a sheepish grin. “It doesn’t make a lot of sense to me, but—”

 

“But he’s paying you,” Moon says, half a question and half the end of his sentence.

 

“Yeah,” says Hau, scratching the top of his head. “He is. That’s good, right? Maybe I’ll be able to afford, like, real food.”

 

“Ramen is real food,” Moon says defensively.

 

“I don’t know how you even still like instant ramen,” he responds. “We’ve been living off of it for, like, _weeks_ now. Don’t you miss pizza? And pasta? And—”

 

Moon rolls her eyes. “Get your boyfriend to take you out to dinner before I puke,” she says, and it’s settled.

 

Hau is going to have to get a _lot_ of dinner dates out of this.

 

 

 

 **Obnoxious Boyfriend** **(11:31 AM)** : so you’re like not going to tell me why we’re dating

 **gladion** **(11:32 AM)** : Fake dating.

 **Obnoxious Boyfriend (11:32 AM)** : correcting me so i don’t get the wrong idea? ;)

 **gladion (11:33 AM)** : Shut up. Don’t make me fire you before the job’s even started.

 

 

 

Their first meeting is at a coffee shop. Gladion chooses the time and location, though he’d been a bit dismayed when Hau texted him, _dude i don’t think i’d be able to afford water there_. In the sense that Gladion now has to pay for them both, it’s a date. He’s paying for Hau, and for Hau’s appetite, apparently.

 

He’s not that upset, really. (Well, he kind of is. He’s been pretty infuriated by the few texts he and Hau have sent, but he’s trying really hard _not_ to be upset). It helps that when Hau shows up, Gladion’s heart thumps too hard to hold a grudge.

 

Hau enters the coffeeshop and quickly adopts an expression of bewilderment, which Gladion doesn’t know how to feel about. Gladion doesn’t see him at first (because he’s scrolling through their texts), but when he does, he realizes he doesn’t know how to catch Hau’s attention. He settles on waving like an idiot. Despite the weird looks he gets from just about everyone else and his violently moving forearms like he’s spasming, Hau doesn’t look his way.

 

He has to clear his throat six times while shaking his arms about for Hau to notice him, and even then Hau doesn’t move, just widens his eyes. And Hau may be attractive (like, painfully attractive), but even he can’t pull off the expression, some mix of surprise and something Gladion can’t place. Gladion has to clear his throat for a seventh time for Hau to walk awkwardly over to him.

 

“So. You’re just as uptight in person,” is the first thing Hau says when he sits down, and Gladion glares at him.

 

“I’m not uptight,” he responds. He takes in Hau slowly, so as not to overwhelm himself. His soft, quirky smile. The stubble underneath his chin. The sun-sprinkled freckles along his wide nose. His hair, pulled back and tinted dark green.Gladion can’t decide if it’s dyed or not.

 

Hau doesn’t seem to notice Gladion staring, which is a relief. Gladion takes a deep breath, and says eloquently, “Uh.”

 

“Are you going to tell me why I’m your boyfriend?” asks Hau, with an annoyingly beautiful smile. He leans back and stretches his arms behind his head.

 

Gladion has a response to this planned. He shakes his head firmly and says, “No, I want to get to know you first. Like an interview.”

 

He immediately regrets his wording when Hau abruptly brings his hands back to his sides, barks out an awkward laugh, and says, “I didn’t realize this was going to be a formal thing. Should I have worn a suit?”

  
A quick look at Hau makes Gladion severely doubt Hau has ever worn a suit in his life, let alone owns one. He frowns. “This is serious,” he snaps, a little insecure.

 

Hau’s smile vanishes from his face. “Sorry,” he says immediately, and Gladion can’t help but feel bad. “I didn’t realize. So, um, do you want to hear, like, my credentials? I don’t know how to, like—”

 

“Shut up,” says Gladion. He’s unsure of how to calm Hau down now that he’s made him uncomfortable. “Just tell me about yourself.”

 

Hau perks up, and says, “Well, I’m majoring in environmental science because I want to work on conservation, y’know?” and Gladion can’t help but snort. Of course. Of _course_ this beautiful boy is majoring in something so selfless. Hau peers at him suspiciously. “You _do_ believe in climate change, right?”

 

“I’m not an idiot,” says Gladion. “I’m offended you think I’d be so oblivious.”

 

Hau shrugs. “You’d be surprised, man.”

 

“Is that all? You’re into the earth?” Gladion says, suddenly feeling awkward.

 

Hau pauses to think. “I’m, uh, broke?”

 

Gladion frowns. “Very useful.”

 

“I don’t know. I’m just… me.”

 

Gladion sighs and decides this method isn’t working. He pauses and looks down at Hau leaning in his chair, and clears his throat. “Okay, I’ll go first. I’m Gladion, obviously, I’m a business major — which is terrible, for the record — I hate the beach, and my favorite color is black.”

 

“Black isn’t a color,” says Hau immediately. “And the beach is awesome.”

 

“It _is_ a color.”

 

“Technically, it’s the absence of color, ‘cause like, nothing’s being reflected. So. Black can’t be your favorite color. That’s, like, illegal.”

 

“I don’t think you understand law,” Gladion says dryly, frowning again. He sighs and then adds, “My _second_ favorite color is red.”

 

“You mean your first favorite,” Hau supplies. “I like yellow.”

 

Gladion blanches. “Yellow,” he says. “Yellow’s so gross.”

 

Hau sits up a little straighter and leans forward in his chair, not bothering to listen to Gladion. “Like, burnt yellow? Ochre or something like that?” He pulls up his phone, presumably to google the color, and Gladion clears his throat (again).

  
“So, what do you want to order?”

 

“I’m thinking some herbal tea,” says Hau, and Gladion narrows his eyes. _What kind of idiot goes to a coffee shop and orders herbal tea,_ he thinks. The expression on his face must be pretty sour, because Hau adds, “Whoa, man. I just had a lot of coffee this morning, is all. I try not to drink too much so it, y’know, affects me and pulls me through all-nighters. Plus, _you_ picked this coffee shop.”

 

Gladion can’t argue with that.

 

 

 

They go on another date for pizza.

  
Well, fake date.

  
The whole situation’s kind of baffling, if Hau’s being honest. Gladion still hasn’t explained _why_ he needed a fake boyfriend in the first place, though when Hau had cracked a joke about Gladion just wanting a hot date, he’d been completely iced out.

 

But Gladion promised he’ll pay Hau for this one, and Hau feels bad saying yes, but he really needs the money because he’s very, very broke. So broke.

 

The meeting is pretty awkward. For example, Hau can’t stop staring, and Gladion has to clear his throat twice to get Hau to pay attention, and repeat himself several times before Hau processes anything, which is — embarrassing. Hau’s pretty sure Gladion thinks he’s an idiot. It’s not really that different from their coffee shop date. Interview? Hau’s not really sure.

 

And _then,_ when Hau orders a pineapple pizza, Gladion gives him a disgusted look and says, “I don’t know if I can pay you for this meeting.”

 

Hau doesn’t realize what he means at first. “Okay,” he says. “Like I told you, dare. Don’t really care _that_ much.”

 

Gladion looks frustrated, and he blows his bangs out of his face and sets his jaw and says, “No, I mean, because—because that _pizza_ is a monstrosity and it’s a crime to put pineapple on pizza.”

 

Hau snorts. “Maybe you should just ‘fess up and tell someone you hired me off Craigslist to be your fake boyfriend. Who, by the way, likes pineapple on their pizza.”

 

“Shut _up_.”

 

“You’re paying for this pizza, is all I’m saying,” says Hau.

 

“I am,” says Gladion, sighing, “aren’t I.”

 

The conversation lulls and Hau is tempted to pick up his phone and text Moon, or something. They sit in silence for a while until their server places down their pizzas. Hau picks up a slice, but Gladion clears his throat, and says, “Let’s talk price,” and Hau sighs.

 

“I told you, you don’t have to—”

 

“Twenty dollars an hour.”

 

“Shut the fuck up.”

 

Gladion pales, then shakes his head firmly. “I won’t go higher than twenty.” He’s clearly misinterpreted what Hau means by the knit of his eyebrows and thin line of his mouth.

 

Hau doesn’t bother clarifying. “You’re joking,” he breathes. “Are you rich? You’re rich, aren’t you. That’s why you went on Craigslist to find a fake boyfriend and pay him _twenty dollars an hour_. You’re rich. Oh my god, you’re—”

 

“Will you shut _up_ for a moment and listen to me?” snaps Gladion, and Hau has to admit, even though he hates himself for it, that it’s kind of hot. He wouldn’t actually _mind_ seeing Gladion mad. Which is... worrying, really.

 

“Okay,” says Hau. “Hit me with the whole story.”

 

“I— what?” says Gladion, anger erased from his face and replaced with bewilderment. “You can’t be a real person. Real people don’t like pineapple on pizza and real people don’t actually talk like this and—”

 

“I’m sorry,” says Hau, cracking another smile, “But what, if you don’t mind me asking, is your point?”

 

“Okay,” says Gladion, and swallows. Hau tracks the movement of his adam’s apple with his eyes. “Basically, this girl — Plumeria — asked me out, and—” he pauses to watch Hau, presumably because he’s embarrassed. To be fair, Hau is embarrassed for him. Any situation in which you’re meeting someone you hired off Craigslist and then telling them why when there was probably a much, much better solution at hand is an embarrassing story.

 

“Go on,” Hau says, trying a kind tone, though it cracks as he forces down laughter.

 

“She asked me out, and I told her I’m gay, and that I have a boyfriend, and then—” Gladion grimaces and shrugs. Hau watches him expectantly. “And then she didn’t believe me, so.”

 

“So you looked through—presumably—pages and pages of Craigslist to find me,” Hau supplies, and Gladion’s cheeks go a dusty red. It’s really hard for Hau to not point out that Gladion could have just said “I’m gay” and left it at that, but he holds himself back. Only — only because Gladion’s paying him and Hau really needs the money, though. (Not because of how much Hau likes to admire the peach color in Gladion’s cheeks, or anything).

 

“ _No_ ,” Gladion grumbles. “Your post was the first one I clicked on.”

 

Hau’s pretty sure that’s a lie, considering he’d posted the ad months ago.

 

“Sure,” Hau says, evenly. “How long did you tell her we’ve been dating for?”

 

Gladion’s blush darkens. He says something quickly into his water. Hau leans over, amused, and cups his hand around his ear. “I didn’t hear you.”

 

Gladion glares at him over the table and mumbles something, and Hau briefly thinks, _it is illegal to have a glare that hot_ before shaking his head. “You’re going to have to repeat that.”

 

Gladion schools his features and says, just barely audibly, “Two years.”

 

Hau snorts, and then starts to shake with laughter. “Two… years…” he says in between giggles, watching Gladion go redder and redder.

 

“You can’t _mock_ me,” snaps Gladion. “I’m paying you.”

 

“That’s true,” Hau says, pretending to pout. His expression falls apart when starts to laugh again. “But dude, I just met you. How’re we going to pretend we’ve been going out for _two years_? How are people going to react when you roll up, like, here’s my boyfriend we’ve been dating for two years sorry I didn’t tell you?”

 

“I’m paying you to help me figure that out,” says Gladion, and Hau starts to laugh again.

 

“Okay, okay,” says Hau, and studies Gladion. “So, when am I meeting the unlucky girl?”

 

“My mother’s having a fundraiser,” says Gladion evenly, though Hau doesn’t miss the twitch in his eyebrows. “She says she won’t pay for school if I don’t go, even though she picked out my major, so—”

 

Hau’s about to say something like, _man, rich people problems_ when it dawns on him that that _is_ a pretty shitty situation. “That sucks,” he says softly, instead. And then, because he doesn’t really deal well with sad things, he adds, “I don’t have to wear a suit, do I?”

 

Gladion cracks the first smile Hau has seen. It’s not an awkward smile, either, it’s sunny and beautiful and Hau’s stomach flip-flops in a way he doesn’t think is anatomically possible. “Just a button down and nice pants,” says Gladion. “Do you own anything that would work?”

 

“Sure,” says Hau, then pauses. “Um, I think so, at least. I’ll send you a picture tonight.”

 

Gladion checks the time, then opens his wallet and gives Hau a twenty and a five. “It’s been about an hour and fifteen minutes,” he says. “I have to go. Thank you for your time.” Like Hau’s some sort of client or something.

 

And then he leaves, and Hau can’t stop himself from peeking as Gladion walks away. (He’s not upset he did, either).

 

 

 

 **hau** **(6:43 PM)** : _[picture sent]_

 **gladion (6:48 PM)** : Those are the most hideous things I’ve seen in my life. Do I have to take you shopping?

 **hau (6:48 PM)** : dude i can’t afford to buy new shit

 **gladion (6:54 PM)** : Fine. I’ll buy you some new clothes.

 **hau (6:55 PM)** : when i made that post on craigslist, i didnt think i’d get a sugar daddy

 **gladion (6:58 PM)** : I am NOT a sugar daddy.

 

 

 

It turns out it’s very, very difficult to shop for Hau. Not because Hau is difficult. It’s because Hau’s idea of formal is extraordinarily casual. When Gladion lets Hau pick stuff out, Hau returns with pants that look vaguely like sweatpants, and a Hawaiian shirt. “No,” says Gladion firmly.

 

And since they’re woefully not the same size, Gladion can’t just give Hau something to borrow. Like Hau would wear all black, anyway. “You look like you’re going to a funeral, but, like, all the time,” Hau remarks as Gladion thumbs through button-downs.

 

Gladion frowns. “And you look homeless.”

 

Hau staggers back, clearly surprised. “Um, dude. You can’t just _say_ that,” he says, and Gladion shrugs. He’s just paying Hau to pretend to date him. They’ll break up after a few fake dates and Gladion will pretend to be heartbroken and ice out Plumeria for a month (win!) and then they’ll never see each other again. Gladion should not, at all, care that he’s hurt Hau’s feelings.

 

“Sorry,” he says regardless, surprising himself, then lifts up a pale pink button down. “I don’t think the yellow ones look any good,” he says, half an excuse, and when he looks at Hau, he’s smiling gently.

 

“No harm,” says Hau, shrugging. “Should I try it on?”

 

It turns out Hau looks unfairly good in a button-down, but he’s also so uncomfortable in it. He keeps fidgeting with his collar until Gladion sighs and stomps out to find a different shirt instead. They try a cotton one, dark blue, and even though Gladion says, “You look more like a hipster than someone who’s going to a formal fundraiser,” he’s fighting a blush rising on his cheeks because that’s definitely the one. “Just wear some black jeans and nice shoes,” says Gladion.

 

“I thought you didn’t want me to be casual.”

 

“You look like you’re going to explode in formalwear, and you won’t stop fiddling with your collar,” responds Gladion. “This is halfway there. It’ll do.”

 

Hau laughs. “Whatever you say, boss.”

 

 

 

 **gladion (1:59 AM)** : I have flashcards set out for you to start studying names and faces.

 **hau (2:03 AM)** : one, do you ever sleep

 **hau (2:03 AM)** : two, what the fuck

 

 

 

They’ve gone through pretty much all the flashcards, like, four times, and Hau still can’t remember the names. Gladion can see the frustration building, and to be fair, he’s frustrated, too. This needs to be perfect.

 

When Hau forgets one of the easiest names — Wicke — Gladion snaps, “I didn’t know I was hiring someone _braindead_.”

 

Hau frowns. “I’m not, I’m just—”

 

“Tired? Yeah, I know. You’ve said that four times now.”

 

Hau sighs and puts his head in his arms. “I can’t do this. There are so many names, Gladion.”

 

Gladion frowns, and then gets an idea. It’s less of an idea and more related to a fantasy he’s been having, about kissing Hau. They do need to practice, he thinks, if they’re going to kiss and hold hands and be a convincing couple. So he says, “Right. Let’s try something else,” and Hau looks at him with confusion plainly written on his face.

 

He’d probably been expecting Gladion to yell at him again.

 

“What would motivate you to remember these?” He tugs at his shirt and raises an eyebrow.

 

“Are you insinuating we play the clothes-off method, because,” Hau trails off, and then laughs. “I didn’t even know you _knew_ about that; you’re so uptight.”

 

“ _No_ ,” says Gladion, feeling stupid. He holds up a card. “Let’s drop it. Who’s this?”

 

Hau shrugs, then squints at it. “Um, wait. I know who that is. He’s part of that corporation your mom’s teaming up with, uh… bones, or something? Fuck.”

 

Gladion studies him. He still feels like an idiot. Of course Hau isn’t attracted to him. He doesn’t even know if Hau likes boys. This is just a job to Hau, probably. A way for a broke college kid to get money. “Leading, not part of. He’s a CEO.”

 

Hau squints. “He’s important,” he says glumly. “Alright, give me the name.”

 

“Guzma,” says Gladion and Hau makes a big show of smacking his hand against his forehead.

 

“Fuck, _Guzma_ ,” Hau mutters to himself, and then unceremoniously takes off his shirt. Which is...

 

Well, it’s a lot. Gladion’s heart definitely starts to beat faster than it should and he can’t tear his eyes away from Hau’s sun-kissed skin and his throat is dry when he manages an intelligent “Uh, what.”

 

“We’re playing the strip game, right? Look, man, we’ve been dating for two years. You’ve definitely seen me shirtless.”

 

Gladion all of a sudden really, really hopes Hau gets the next few cards wrong.

 

 

 

 **gladion (3:18 PM)** : I’m picking you up at five.

 **hau (3:19 PM)** : cool. cool cool cool

 

 **plumeria (4:21 PM)** : hope u found a fake date for the fundraiser xo

 

 

 

It’s a pretty elaborate lie, Hau has to admit. And — well, he’s nervous. Like, really, really nervous. He’s already gotten four texts from Gladion saying that if he fucks this up, he won’t get paid, which shouldn’t be stressful, but the lack of faith from his fake boyfriend is really screwing with his nerves.

 

He’s waiting outside his shitty apartment to be picked up, and Moon _and_ Sun have made fun of him, like, four times now, and it’s starting to drizzle, and he’s suddenly worried Gladion won’t show up. Usually, even if he’s five minutes early to a meeting, Gladion’s there before him. He’s never late.

 

 **hau (5:05 PM)** : gladion my dude where are you

 

There’s no response, and Hau texted five minutes ago. Sure, Gladion doesn’t always respond right away, but Hau’s nervous and he’s suddenly certain he’s about to be stood up to a fake, paid date. He’s not even sure why he’s nervous. He’s being _paid_. Gladion will show.

 

With that thought, a flashy car appears — black, with red racing stripes, _Christ_ — and swerves harshly to park against the curb. Gladion gets out, as if summoned, and says, “Ready?” and Hau momentarily forgets how to speak.

 

It turns out, Gladion in a black button down and dress pants is something Hau has been missing his entire life. Seriously. “Uh, yeah,” Hau forces out, and then tries to clear his mind. “God, I’m nervous.”

Gladion nods. “Me, too,” he says, and gives Hau a smile that looks incredibly, incredibly fake.

 

“Are we holding hands or no?”

 

Gladion shrugs. “Just act natural.”

 

He’s clearly never been good at advice.

 

 

 

Plumeria ambushes him and Hau halfway through the fundraiser. Hau’s gone through everything on the snack table, and he’s pulling Gladion back for seconds? thirds? when Plumeria appears and says, “So this is him.”

 

“Hey,” says Hau, waving. “You must be Plumeria.”

 

“This is him,” Gladion confirms and nods solemnly.

 

“Liven up,” says Plumeria with a smirk, and sticks out her hand to an unsuspecting Hau. She’s got another on her hip and an expression that reads like she’s concentrating too hard, like she’s watching for Hau to slip up, and Gladion realizes Hau has no idea what Plumeria is going to do, or say next. He gets the sudden urge to pull Hau away, but then she’ll suspect something, and if Hau fucks this up, then Gladion’s been wasting a lot of money and Gladion kind of wants to kiss Hau, anyways, and—

 

“How come I haven’t heard about you?” she says, interrupting his thoughts and giving Hau a once-over. She brings her hand up to fiddle with a red pendant she’s wearing, cocking her head to the side, like she’s actually curious. The slit in her black dress rises enough for her tattoo to be visible. Rumor has it that Guzma has a matching one.

 

He’s pausing to think about that and then it dawns on Gladion then that he and Hau have not come up for a reason for this. _Fuck_ , he thinks eloquently.

 

Hau gives her an easy smile, as if this is a perfectly natural question to which he has a perfectly natural answer. Gladion is shocked that Hau’s such a good actor. Frustrated, too, that he didn’t know this before. “Oh, I wasn’t out for a while,” lies Hau, and even Gladion half believes him, that’s how natural it seems. “Gladion was really cool about it. I’m only just coming out now.”

 

Plumeria narrows her eyes, clearly unconvinced.

 

“I mean,” adds Hau, smiling at Gladion in a sort of lovey-dovey way, and Gladion’s breath catches when he looks back at him. “He’s not really the open type, anyway.”

 

She snorts. “That’s for sure,” she says fiddling with her dress. “How did you meet?” Though it seems caring, Gladion can see from the glint in her eye that she’s trying to trip Hau up.

 

“Online,” says Hau smoothly, and Gladion snorts.

 

“Hm,” says Plumeria, and frowns. “He told you about what happened?”

 

“Yeah,” says Hau, and then gives her a bright smile. “Thanks for that, actually. It really helped me realize it was time to start, y’know, being a bigger part of Glad’s life.” He picks up a sugar cookie and points to Gladion’s sister, Lillie, who’s in deep conversation with someone else. “Hey, look, Glad!”

 

“I’m looking,” says Gladion, secretly thrilled by being called Glad.

 

“You promised me you’d introduce me to your sister,” says Hau, taking Gladion’s hand and pouting slightly.

 

“I did?” says Gladion, distracted by Hau’s hand in his. His whole arm is tingling slightly and he can’t breathe. With a look from Hau, he shakes his head as if to refocus. “I guess I did. Sorry, Plumeria, catch you later?”

 

She shoots him a look between, _you’re so far gone_ and _I don’t believe you_ and Gladion realizes she isn’t wrong just as Hau pulls him away.

 

 

 

“Oh!” says Lillie, smiling warmly, “That’s so interesting!”

 

Hau dips his head in response. He has absolutely no idea if Lillie knows about Craigslist and the fake boyfriend deal, but Gladion’s got a weird expression that makes Hau’s heart ache, and so he puts on a grin and tries to act natural. Which is, to be fair, kind of difficult, given the daggers Plumeria’s been staring at him with all night.

 

His free hand finds his way to his neck and he blushes. “I mean, I hope so. Conservation’s really important, so.”

 

Lillie nods feverently. “I’ve heard! I’ve always been interested in zoology,” she says pleasantly, “and the like. What do you plan on focusing on? Or where, I guess?” She’s objectively pretty, Lillie, with the same nose as Gladion and the same color eyes, but hers are bright and warm.

 

Hau smiles, relaxing. “I’m Hawaiian,” he explains slowly, and launches into a series of facts, statistics, and terms about rising water levels, the Hawaiian islands, and biodiversity. Lillie follows him all the way through, though he doesn’t dare look at Gladion to tell if he’s bored or not. He’s a little nervous Gladion won’t be interested in it.

 

(He’s been nervous he’s not quite what Gladion was looking for).

 

But when he’s finished, Gladion tugs on his arm and says quietly, “You didn’t tell me that.” Gladion looks different, eyes softer and wearing an unrecognizable expression. It’s the sort of expression Hau can’t imagine Gladion’s face forming, but now that it is, now that it’s direct at Hau — he takes a deep breath.

 

“I didn’t know you were interested,” says Hau, pulling Gladion closer and in front of Lillie. Gladion’s a little taller than he is, but Hau’s focusing on acting and looking boyfriend-like and it’s surprisingly easy to wrap his arms around Gladion’s neck and lean in. He locks eyes with Gladion, tries to tell himself he’s doing this because he’s getting _paid_ and not because he really, really wants to.

 

“Hm,” is all Gladion says in response, and Hau swears Gladion’s leaning into him.

 

“I’m sorry. I should have told you,” Hau adds, just because of how good Gladion’s warmth feels and how his whole body is singing to pull closer. He smells like smoke and pine and boy.

 

But Gladion untangles himself quickly and, burning bright red, says, “Whatever.”

 

Hau wonders if he’s done something wrong, and he tones it down, after that.

 

 

 

Gladion’s whole body burns from the _incident_ with Hau. He can feel every hair on his arms and he’s suddenly oversensitive. He wants to pull Hau close and kiss him, but he knows that Hau’s just acting. Just getting paid.

 

He’s vaguely aware that his ears are bright red, and that maybe he's done something wrong, because Hau isn’t holding his hand anymore, and the two of them are just going through the motions. Lillie watched them curiously as they move throughout the party, like she knows something he doesn’t. Plumeria still looks distrustful.

 

Gladion doesn’t blame either of them.

 

Hau pulls him into a room later and says, softly, “Dude. Are you okay?” Gladion lets their eyes lock, watches how grey eyes soften when they meet his green ones. “Because…” Hau shakes his head, runs a hand through his green hair. Gladion had made him keep it down because it looked more formal.

 

Gladion pauses. The question has barely registered. “Because what,” he snaps. “Because last _I_ checked, we were supposed to be pretending to be dating outside.”

 

Hau’s expression goes from worried to blank in a microsecond. Gladion’s not sure what overcame him; maybe it’s their physical proximity and the weird, horrible, lurching, dawning realization that he’s set himself up for heartbreak over a completely obnoxious almost-frat boy. (That’s not fair, he thinks hazily later. Hau isn’t a frat boy).

 

“Sorry,” Hau mumbles.

 

Gladion tugs at his collar, suddenly tired. “No,” he says. “You’re right. I just… hate these things.”

 

Hau looks around the room quizzically, like Gladion hates the tiny supply closet he’s been pulled into. “Are you claustrophobic?” he says suddenly, and his deep green eyebrows knit together worriedly. “Shit, I didn’t realize, I just — we can step out if you want, oh my God I’m so sorry I didn’t know I’m sorry—”

 

Gladion snorts. “I meant fundraisers,” he says. “Not… closets.” He can’t help but add, “I’ve been in one for most of my life.”

 

It’s absolutely cheesy, and Gladion’s pretty sure Hau isn’t straight at this point (what straight guy says yes to pretend to be gay?), but Hau bursts out laughing. “I didn’t know you had a sense of humor,” says Hau in between peals of laughter and hunching over. Gladion’s pretty sure Hau might have a stroke, and he wants to touch his shoulder, make Hau feel alright, but he isn’t really sure what the boundary is, since they’re alone.

 

His hand itches just to rest itself on Hau’s arm and Gladion takes a deep breath. “Shut up,” he says sort-of goodnaturedly, and thinks about tugging Hau out of the closet and to face his mother again, but he’s afraid to touch Hau. His fingers twitch, and Gladion _swears_ he can feel Hau’s gravitational pull. He’s leaning in close, and he has to straighten and pull himself away.

 

His hand is on the doorknob and he’s ready to leave when Hau says, “Wait.”

 

Gladion pauses. “Waiting.”

 

“I’m sorry,” says Hau. “That you have to deal with all this.”

 

Gladion knows what Hau means, but he cocks his head and says wryly, “I know how it looks, but I don’t actually own anything in this closet.”

 

“No, I meant—”

 

But Gladion is out the door, and he doesn’t look back to see if Hau is following him.

 

(Later, Hau won’t look him in the eyes when Gladion hands him a wad of bills).

 

 

 

“I can’t believe you’re getting paid by some billionaire’s son to have a fake gay relationship,” says Sun, lounging on Hau’s bed. Hau blinks as the boy pushes his black bangs out of his hair and looks longingly at the ceiling. “Like,” Sun continues, “Your job pays better than mine.”

 

“It’ll end eventually,” says Hau, shrugging. He’s currently trying to study for his marine biology class, but Sun’s never really cared what Hau’s trying or not trying to do. “I mean, would you kiss a guy for twenty dollars an hour?” he adds, twisting onto his stomach to look back at his textbook.

 

“ _No_ , but I’m straight,” says Sun decisively. “And because when you say it like that, you sound like a male prostitute.”

 

“I don’t think you need to specify that I’m a guy,” says Hau. “I think you can just say ‘prostitute.’” He finds himself biting his tongue when it came to admitting that he and Gladion hadn’t actually kissed. They’d been _close_ , and Hau figured Gladion would get bullied into it by Plumeria eventually. She seemed scary.

 

His phone buzzes just as Sun opens his mouth to object.

 

 **gladion (10:36 AM)** : Thank you for yesterday. I have good news and bad news.

 

Hau has to stop himself from snorting. He’s pretty sure Gladion always has bad news. He thinks that Gladion wouldn’t be Gladion without a dollop of pessimism and a snide remark. (He’s starting to realize he kind of likes it).

 

 **hau (10:37 AM)** : good news first

 **gladion (10:37 AM)** : Lillie believed your performance. I think.

 **hau (10:38 AM)** : what can i say? maybe i’m just that good! ;)

 **gladion (10:39 AM)** : Whatever.

 **hau (10:39 AM)** : what’s the bad news?

 **gladion (10:39 AM)** : We’re going out for dinner with my little sister.

 

Hau can’t help it. He starts to laugh.

 

 

 

“You like this one, don’t you,” says Lillie softly.

 

“Hold still,” responds Gladion, trying to figure out the gold clasp of her necklace. He has no idea why they make these things so difficult. It’s not like making it hard has any purpose but for people like Gladion to suffer. But Lillie wriggles again impatiently and he exhales in frustration.

 

She’s in a cute dress that she’d begged their mother to buy for her. He loves that about Lillie, that she always has control of the room, even if she’s small and doe-like. “Glad. We should talk about him.”

 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Gladion says gruffly.

 

“I know you haven’t been dating for two years.” Lillie twists to look at him and Gladion huffs and steadies her. He’s really struggling with this stupid necklace, but she won’t wear another. “But you’re not stupid enough to enlist a random person to be your fake boyfriend just because Plumeria’s being Plumeria, are you?”

 

“I’m not stupid,” is all Gladion says. “I looked him up on Facebook first.” (He hadn’t. He doesn’t even have a Facebook).

 

“Gladion…”

 

“There. Done.” Satisfied, Gladion steps back from Lillie and lets her face him. “Why did you ask to take him out to dinner?”

 

She frowns. “I was hoping it was real.”

 

“Hoping.”

 

“The way you looked at each other…” she trails off and looks away. “We’re going to be late,” says Lillie, and Gladion feels like he’s missed something. Her eyes are cast downward as she grabs her purse and walks out the door. “Should I drive, or should you?”

 

It’s like he’s disappointed her, somehow.

 

 

 

Moon answers the door for Hau. He’s still fixing his tie, but the apartment goes suddenly silent, so he figures something’s happened. When he pads carefully into the hallway, he sees Lillie and Moon staring at each other, like they’ve met before. Hau locks eyes with Gladion from behind Moon.

 

“Hey!” Hau says pleasantly, pushing past Moon’s small frame to hug Lillie and give Gladion a nod. Ever since the party, he’s felt awkward touching the blond, and now he’s afraid to close the space between them, even for a hug. “You guys know each other?”

 

“No,” says Lillie and Moon says, “Yes.”

 

“Well,” responds Gladion gruffly, trying to catch Hau’s eye, “if that isn’t confusing.”

 

“Come to dinner,” Lillie blurts as a response. She’s bright red and Hau has to stifle a laugh at how ridiculous it is. He’s never seen Moon so shaken, and Moon is practically ashen. She’s standing stock still, and Hau’s pretty sure she hasn’t moved since she opened the door. “If you want,” adds Lillie awkwardly.

 

“If I…” Moon says softly. Moon doesn’t talk much, except to insult Sun and poke fun at Hau (there’s a difference, and Moon is well versed in both playful and actual rudeness). Hau jabs her in the side, but he kind of misses, because he’s a head taller than she is. He hits her shoulder and Moon coughs. “Uh, sure,” she adds.

 

“Cool!” Hau says brightly. “It’ll be a blast.”

 

 

 

It is anything but a blast. Lillie drives with quiet precision and Gladion sits in the passenger seat, despite when Lillie adds, “But you’re dating!” with the sort of tone that indicates she knows they aren’t. Everyone sits in total silence the whole way there and Moon looks like she’s going to have a stroke.

 

 **hau (6:17 PM):** moon. bro

 **hau (6:17 PM):** are u ok

 

He glances up at Moon, but her eyes are trained with a fixated fascination at the window. She’d changed into a nicer set of plaid pants and a knit sweater, though she’s still wearing that horrible beanie she’s so fond of. (One of these days, Hau’ll steal it and send it to Goodwill, but he isn’t mean enough).

 

His phone buzzes.

 

 **gladion (6:19 PM):** Lillie knows.

 **hau (6:19 PM):** oh well at least that makes sense

 **hau (6:21 PM):** what’s her deal w moon? do u kno?

 **gladion (6:21 PM):** I do not. If I did, however, I would not share it with someone who spells ‘know’ without the w.

 

Hau snorts.

 

 **hau (6:22 PM):** way harsh, man.

 

Gladion does not warrant that important enough for a response. It doesn’t matter, because a few minutes later, Lillie pulls into the parking lot of a really, really nice restaurant. Like, Hau knew to wear a tie, but it still feels impossibly fancy. To be fair, Lillie’s in a deep purple cocktail dress and Gladion’s in a suit, but Hau still wasn’t really prepared for a room full of white people mingling and clinking glasses.

 

He hasn’t really had time to admire Gladion in a suit. He doesn’t have an excuse to be staring, either, but it looks remarkably good on him. Gladion catches him looking, throat dry, and raises a single blond eyebrow.

 

“Sorry,” mumbles Hau. “I’m a little intimidated by…” He waves a hand. “…all this.”

 

He looks over at Moon, who also looks incredibly intimidated. “You didn’t tell me you were dating a _Mohn_ , Hau,” she hisses as a waiter leads them to their table.

 

“I didn’t know it was relevant,” says Hau, and tries to put on a good natured grin. (He hadn’t even realized Gladion’s last name _was_ Mohn).

 

When they’re seated and Lillie’s ordered some sort of Chef’s pick thing for them all, everyone eyes one another and Hau realizes he knows absolutely nothing about his fake boyfriend and his sister. He doesn’t even know what being a Mohn means. “So,” says Gladion, looking around the table. “Everyone knows about Hau and I?”

 

Moon nods. She can tell when things are directed at her, even when they’re posed to a group. She’s just like that, Hau guesses.

 

“And Craigslist,” adds Hau unhelpfully, to which Lillie gapes.

 

“ _Craigslist_ ?” She turns to cast a polite but icy stare nonetheless. “You met him on _Craigslist_.”

 

Moon puts a hand on Lillie silently, trying to smile. Lillie stills suddenly and looks back over to the other girl. “He met him on Craigslist,” she repeats, but it sounds weirdly apologetic. Like she’s really saying, _I’m sorry for behavior, but I must scold my older brother._

 

Hau laughs.

 

“He’s my roommate,” responds Moon. Moon doesn’t say much, and what she does say she rarely doesn’t mean. She’s reassuring Lillie, Hau assumes, that Hau isn’t a psychopath or freak or anything.

 

“I know, but…” Lillie frowns.

 

Gladion looks over at Hau and sighs. “You could have not mentioned that,” he says, rubbing his temples.

 

“So,” says Hau. “Lillie. How’d you and Moon meet?”

 

There’s another brief silence, this one laden with something Hau can’t place. There’s clearly something between the two girls, and it’s kind of frustrating to watch Moon without knowing why she’s acting the way she is. Lillie casts another glance towards Moon that looks both longing and frustrated.

 

“We…” Moon pauses. “We were kids.”

 

Gladion and Hau lock eyes again and the pair frown. Hau sighs. Clearly, neither Moon nor Lillie wants to talk about it. “Cool,” he says, trying to sound pleasant.

 

“Lillie,” says Gladion pleasantly, but eyes cold. “Would you tell Hau why he’s here?”

 

Hau stiffens, tries to relax. “Are you asking your little sister to break up with me for you in front of my roommate?” he jokes, but not even the corners of Gladion’s lips twitch. The only telltale sign Gladion’s acknowledged what Hau’s said at all is how his eyes soften.

 

“No,” says Lillie, “I wanted to say thank you.”

 

Everyone (even Gladion, Hau notes smugly) looks surprised. “I…” Hau starts.

 

“I’m serious. You’ve been incredibly kind to Gladion, and I know myself how much of a handful Plumeria can be.” Lillie’s expression darkens momentarily and Hau stops himself from making a (tasteless) joke about spy movies and rich people. “Plus…” she flashes a little embarrassedly cheeky smile, “he needs new friends.”

 

“Excuse me?” says Gladion. Hau realizes he hasn’t said anything particularly rude because of nice their surroundings are. He has to attribute foresight to Lillie. She looks shyly smug about it, too, like she knows full well how Gladion can’t say what he wants. “I have friends!”

 

“You do?” says Hau. “I haven’t met any.”

 

“Your dog doesn’t count,” says Lillie.

 

“You have a _dog_ and you didn’t tell me,” says Hau.

 

“I should have never agreed to dinner,” says Gladion grumpily.

 

Moon, much to everyone’s surprise, bursts out laughing, and it’s contagious. The situation is _kind of_ comical, if Hau’s being honest. And the best is Gladion’s relaxing expression, his truly happy laugh. Something catches in Hau’s throat. Gladion’s smile is so sunny, so bright, that he doesn’t realize he’s staring until Gladion pauses and looks down shyly.

 

_Oh._

 

 

 

 **gladion (2:16 AM)** : Plumeria is hosting a small get-together. Would you be my date?

 **hau (5:15 AM)** : dude???? go to bed???

 **hau (5:16 AM)** : also send me the date & time and i’ll write it down somewhere

 **gladion (6:45 AM)** : Don’t tell me I have to buy you a planner as well.

 **hau (6:47 AM)** : just like you didn’t tell me about your dog >:(

 

 

 

Gladion sends four things over to Hau’s apartment: an evergreen button down, because as far as he knows (and Lillie, who pointed this out dryly), Hau only owns one; a planner, which is small and black; a thank you note from his mother for attending the fundraiser (edited with his own commentary); and a photograph of his dog, Silvally. He’s a little anxious about sending the package, but Lillie encourages him to do it when he approaches her.

 

She still hasn’t said anything about Moon, besides that they became close after he left for boarding school. This makes him scowl; she knows boarding school is still a sore memory. “You did very well,” she always points out politely, but they’ve always had things they don’t talk about, and Gladion does not talk about boarding school.

 

Regardless, it’s a little easier to bear her own teasing when he has someone to mention as a means of defense. “Funny,” she says one day, “how they ended up living together.” She doesn’t say who (both of them know she means Moon and Hau). It’s one of Lillie’s Lillie-isms that Gladion’s become accustomed to. She never says everything she means; in some ways, Gladion blames their mother and mess of a childhood for their cryptic pigeon conversations. He knows what she means, though: _How strange, that two people that matter so greatly are connected._

 

To say that, though, is to say that Moon matters to her. But the implication is enough. Gladion doesn’t laugh when she says it, just sighs frustratedly. “It seems I’ll never be able to leave you behind,” he says, mock-grumpy, but she doesn’t laugh. She knows what he means, too. (He means: I’m never going to leave my last name and the multi-billion _Aether Corp._ monopoly behind).

 

“I think he likes you, too,” says Lillie after a pause.

 

“I don’t like him,” Gladion says gruffly. “It’s just to get Plumeria off my back.”

 

She scoots closer to him. She’s still his baby sister, and even though they’d spent a lot of teenagehood apart, he still feels a pang that he’d left her behind. It’s complicated, the whole family business. But Lillie is looking at him with a softness that makes him feel like he’s younger than she is, like she’s wise beyond all her years.

 

He wants to shout something along the lines of, _I’m older, for Chrissake! I’m more experienced!_ as if Lillie’s old soul personality is such an inconvenience. But she smiles and looks like a child again when she says, “You deserve that fairytale ending, Gladion.”

 

“Shut up,” he responds gruffly. “I can’t believe you won’t let me forget that.”

 

“I still have the book, somewhere,” she says and laughs.

 

“And _I_ know you still sleep with that horrible stuffed animal,” he shoots back. “The one that looks like a _moon_.” He places all this emphasis on the word moon so that she’ll know what he’s referencing, and watches a blush dust her pale cheeks.

 

“Shut up.” She gets up to leave his room, laughs. “And take that poor boy on a real date!”

 

“What boy?” responds Gladion innocently as she leaves.

 

Never one for surprises, he picks up his phone to text Hau. For a moment, he’s tempted to be conversational. Hau always is, like he’s ready to say more than what’s necessary for business. He sighs.

 

 

 

 **gladion (4:53 PM)** : I sent you a package. I’ll see you Sunday.

 

 

 

Hau’s pretty sure this is going to go terribly. Regardless, he borrows a nice jacket from Sun that’s a bit too small across the shoulders and waits outside obediently for Gladion to pick him up. Moon’s been careful around him, ever since that dinner. He feels like he’s missed something, but he’s afraid to ask. She’s a private person.

 

Either way, he catches sight of Gladion’s super-nice, rich person car and gives an awkward wave. His jacket is slung over a shoulder and snorts when Gladion hops out and opens the door for him. It’s become kind of uneasy between them; Gladion hands him the bills beforehand “just in case.”

 

Hau tries to turn on the radio. Gladion tells him to turn it off. “I can’t believe you live life in silence,” Hau says and laughs.

 

“Shut up,” responds Gladion. He’s clearly in a worse mood than usual. Maybe he’s nervous.

 

It only worsens when they arrive at Plumeria’s house. He’s cold and curt, especially with the pink-haired woman, who’s in a sheer top and tight pants. She’s lanky and daring and _funny,_ which Hau wasn’t expecting, but he still feels like it’s some sort of trap. Gladion’s dark expression indicates he feels the same way.

 

It especially isn’t any more enjoyable because Plumeria is touchy and tipsy. Hau would love to hold Gladion — every nerve tingles each time they lean close and he wants so badly just to crash into him, just once, and watching Plumeria trace her finger over Gladion’s shoulder is practically torture. Gladion slaps it away after a while, but Plumeria never seems to care. She catches him staring twice, cocks her head.

 

 _Why don’t you touch your boyfriend,_ her expression reads. Hau shifts awkwardly.

 

“Do you want a drink?” he blurts finally to Gladion. “Let me go get you something.”

 

“Hau, please,” Plumeria responds. “Let me.”

 

There’s a bunch of trashy rich people milling around. Hau was expecting something refined and elegant, kind of like Lillie. Twenty minutes after they’ve arrived and Plumeria’s gotten them both frankly disgusting cheap wine in plastic cups, she turns up some music that even _Hau_ hates.

 

“What _is_ this?” he yells over the commotion. It’s like he’s gone insane, because he’s pretty sure it’s metallic, staticy garbage being blasted, but people are rushing to the living room to dance and screaming in excitement. Plumeria’s clearly carved out a space between the furniture for dancing and she’s violently tossing her hips to the side in the middle of a throng of people.

 

They all wear bandanas from the company-slash-gang they work at, which Gladion had explained before the fundraiser. A quick look at Gladion reveals he’s just as disgusted by the whole scene. “Norwegian heavy metal,” he says dryly and Hau’s, like, ninety-nine percent sure he’s misheard him.

 

Before he can say anything else, Plumeria’s back and sweaty. “You aren’t dancing,” she shouts grumpily, directed at Gladion.

 

“Nope,” shouts Gladion over the music and noise of other people.

 

The two stare at each other like they’re about to dare each other to do something _incredibly_ stupid.

 

“Come here,” shouts Hau nervously and tugs Gladion out of the crowd. He has no idea where to go in Plumeria’s maze-like mansion, but he stumbles around for a bit until Gladion sighs and takes the lead. He watches Gladion’s figure as he’s pulled around until finally, finally, they reach a balcony.

 

“I have literally never been more thankful for fresh air,” says Hau and grins.

 

Gladion gives him a tiny smile and something inside Hau whoops. “I should have warned you,” he says grimly and rests his hands on the bars. “When we were teenagers, we’d go to parties like this and smoke.”

 

“Dude, you could get lung cancer.”

 

Hau’s clearly said the wrong thing, because Gladion winces and looks out over the tops of buildings, expression stony. “I don’t smoke anymore, do I,” he says pointedly. “Besides, I was stupid.”

 

 _No kidding_ , thinks Hau and tries to imagine Gladion at sixteen. He can’t, not really. He bets Gladion was wiry and awkward and had a wispy blonde mustache over his lower lip, but it’s an impossible image to connect to this Gladion, who’s quiet and stoic and grumpy. He can’t even imagine Gladion smoking with Plumeria.

 

“This is a sucky party,” Hau says finally. “Maybe I should take you to a college party.”

 

Gladion looks horrified enough to send Hau into hysterics. He’s laughing so hard his ribs hurt, just imagining Gladion with wild, _poor,_ college students. “Shut up,” says Gladion and Hau keeps laughing. “Shut _up_ ,” says Gladion again, but he’s smiling, too.

 

He’s looking at Hau with this weird softness, the kind that makes a voice in Hau’s head chant, _kiss me, kiss me, kiss me_ and they inch closer. Hau can feel Gladion’s warmth radiating from the inches of space between them — their fingers are so close they could just —

 

Gladion moves his hand a little closer and Hau’s entire arm erupts into flame. It’s just their pinkies touching, but there’s a sudden quietness between them and Hau can’t exactly remember how to breathe, not between Gladion’s green eyes and smile for Hau, the kind that Hau realizes he’s never going to be able to forget, not between their touching pinkies and the feeling of being alive —

 

Hau moves a fraction of an inch closer, tilts his head up. Gladion looks down at him and moves even closer. The space between them feels like a chasm and Hau wants to badly just to close the gap, his whole body’s singing —

 

Gladion moves his hand to Hau’s waist and Hau nearly falls into Gladion’s arms, he’s wanted Gladion’s touch so badly, and now the space seems even more uncrossable but also like Hau’s never wanted to close a gap more than right now —

 

He can’t breathe, he’s so focused on the space between them, and he wants to say something, anything, even just _I want to kiss you_ , when Plumeria shouts, “ _There_ you are!” and they stumble away.

 

Gladion’s frowning again. Hau’s panting.

 

“Yes, hi,” says Gladion, who’s actually _flushed_ and he wipes his pale hands on his dark jeans.

 

“Did I interrupt something?” says Plumeria in a faux-apologetic tone with an expression that’s anything but apologetic. She’s smiling. “I wanted to play a game, but if, you know, you want to—”

 

“No, no,” says Hau suddenly. “We just wanted a bit of air.”

 

He doesn’t miss Gladion’s deepening frown.

 

 

 

So they play Mario Kart with a bunch of Plumeria’s stoned friends, and Plumeria grills Hau some more about their “situation.” Hau is, as ever, a great liar and Gladion watches him with interest. It’s not because the blue-green light of Mario Kart is really flattering, or that Hau is actually weirdly good at this game. No. It’s just because he doesn’t really know anything about Hau. That’s all.

 

Anyways, Hau is only good because he’s the only player decidedly _not_ higher than a kite. And all Gladion can think about is how they almost kissed. (And how much he’d wanted them to).

 

There’s a realization there, too, that he doesn’t want to admit — Lillie’s right. He definitely, absolutely, has a thing for Hau. Which is bad. Really bad. Because he’s paying Hau to date him, and he has absolutely no idea how to remedy the situation, except cut him off. Except Plumeria is _relentless_.

 

“First date?” she says and Hau’s character veers past Bowser.

 

“Uh, pizza,” says Hau, not even looking over at Gladion. His eyes are glued on the screen, where he tilts his controller to go around a particularly difficult bend. He and the NPC are neck and neck.

 

“First kiss?”

 

Pause. Gladion eyes Plumeria nervously. She’s grinning, like she’s caught him in a lie, but Hau looks unmoved. “That’s kind of a funny story, actually,” he says. “It took us forever to kiss.” If that sounds a little pointed, Gladion doesn’t mind. “He kissed me after our first big argument.”

 

“Oh,” says Plumeria. She watches Hau as Yoshi bounce over some mushrooms. “Um…”

 

“Plumeria, seriously. Stop interrogating my boyfriend,” says Gladion and feels something prickle up his spine when he says boyfriend. This is bad. Really bad. (But he loves the way Hau pauses just for a second when he hears it).

 

“Shut up. Favorite quality?”

 

Hau stills as Bowser knocks him over the edge of a cliff. “Fuck,” he says eloquently and looks over at Plumeria. “Favorite quality?” She’s smiling, like she’s got him, but also with something else. A pause. “I guess I like how determined he is.”

 

Silence.

 

Gladion looks over to Hau and catches Hau looking at him. “Oh,” says Gladion softly.

 

“Bad answer?” Hau looks awkward, meek. Gladion’s never seen him really outside his element; even out of place, Hau feels like he should fit right in. It’s as if Hau’s always where he’s supposed to be — except now.

 

“No,” says Gladion softly, and then, “we’re leaving.”

 

“Oh?” says Plumeria, and catches his eye. “Oh,” she says again, with an exaggerated wink.

 

Gladion, to his credit, stifles a good part of the blush. “Come on,” he says, and pulls Hau off the couch. “I want to go — somewhere. I want to go somewhere.”

 

 

 

They end up going towards the beach because Hau lets it drop that he wants to go. Gladion responds that he hates the ocean, but they still swing by Gladion’s apartment to grab Silvally and head towards the sand, anyway. It’s already dark out and Hau has to beg Gladion for some glow sticks, anything, because he has _no_ idea what Gladion’s doing.

 

In fact, once they get there, they just sit on the sand and listen to the waves.

 

“I used to surf,” says Hau finally, desperate to fill the silence. “When I was younger. But I fell out of practice, I guess.”

 

Gladion doesn’t respond. He’s not even looking at Hau, and his features are soft under the glow of a bright pink necklace. His eyes are trained forward and there’s a soft of uncaring expression on his face, but it’s oddly unconvincing.

 

“I didn’t know that,” Gladion says finally. “I don’t really know anything about you.”

 

“You know my name, and that I study life science, and that I don’t do formal outings very well,” responds Hau as Silvally the dog settles between them. He’s not sure if Silvally’s allowed on the beach, but the dog seems happy on the sand and curled up by Gladion’s feet. He’s a speckled mutt, the kind you wouldn’t expect a rich person to have.

 

Hau loves him.

 

“You know what I mean. I don’t know anything — _real_ — about you.”

 

“I mean…”

 

Silvally whines between them. Hau’s not sure what to say, how to make Gladion feel better. He’s right, of course; they don’t know anything about each other except maybe that they almost kissed earlier. Hau can feel Gladion’s closeness, too, wants to inch closer.

 

“You know enough,” says Hau finally. “I’m not all that interesting.”

 

“Try me.”

 

“I...uh, okay, I guess I was raised by my grandfather in a small island. All I wanted to do was explore, get to the continent, you know. All I wanted to do was _do_ something. And now I’m here, so.”

 

“That’s not nothing.”

 

Hau shrugs. “Your turn.”

 

“I went to boarding school because I was too difficult at home, after my dad left. That’s where I met Plumeria — they were some of the worst years of my life. I felt so trapped, and just—” Gladion shivers, looks over to Hau. “Your turn.”

 

“When I was young, I was convinced my dad was a pirate.”

  
Silence as Gladion thinks, and then says, softly, “When I was four, _I_ was convinced I’d be a fairytale prince.”

 

Hau snorts. “You have enough money to be one.”

 

Gladion looks at him suddenly, surprise clearly written on his face, and below that — warmth. Hau’s not sure how to describe it except for general warmth and openness, the kind Gladion doesn’t wear so readily, the kind he’s never seen sitting in Gladion’s eyes. Something in Hau blossoms, too, because he’s suddenly aware it’s for him, this expression, and he breathes in sharply. “What?”

 

Gladion shrugs. “It’s stupid.”

 

“No, tell me!” and Hau gives Gladion a light shove that Silvally begins to perk up at some liveliness, like maybe they want to play with him. “Come on, you can’t just say that, please—”

 

To Hau’s surprise, Gladion says, “Everyone makes fun of me for that.”

 

Hau laughs again. “Seriously? Who _doesn’t_ want to live in a Disney movie?”

 

And Gladion leans in, like he’s about to kiss Hau, so Hau leans in, too, suddenly desperate. They lock eyes for a moment, and then Gladion’s gaze shifts to Hau’s lips and back up to Hau’s eyes, like he wants an invitation. And Hau wants to give it to him, in the chilly night, wants to lean in and pull Gladion closer, so that they’re barely a fraction of an inch apart, so that—except Silvally chooses that precise moment to get up and they both knock their chins on Silvally’s rising back.

 

Hau can’t help it. He laughs at the dog and Gladion’s miffed expression, lit up in soft neon pink, and the fact he’s being paid to pretend to be Gladion’s boyfriend at an isolated beach with no one around, and that he’s not pretending anymore.

 

And Gladion? Gladion starts to laugh as well. He doubles over with that rough laughter that makes Hau’s stomach flip and turn into knots in a pleasant way and Silvally is dashing between and around them and it hits Hau how happy he is.

 

Hau jumps up, pulls off his shirt, and holds his hand out. “Come on,” he says, pulling down his jeans and putting them with his socks and shoes. “Come on, come swimming.”

 

Gladion looks a little dazed by Hau’s half-nakedness and then follows suit. “This is a terrible idea,” he says as Hau pulls him towards the water and Silvally dashes in front of them, doubling back when he gets too far ahead, but he’s laughing still and approaching the water in his boxers anyway.

 

They shriek as the cold water rushes over their ankles, and then Hau begins to run. “Race you!” he says and he dashes into the ocean, into the dark, before checking to make sure he has glow sticks on his ankles and wrists and around his neck so that even in the blackness, Gladion will be able to see him neon yellow-green-blue-pink.

 

Gladion’s done the same, too, when he looks behind him. “No fair!” yells Gladion, “You got a head start!” and he begins to take giant leaps with his long legs towards Hau and he’s laughing, and Hau’s laughing, and eventually they collapse into the water as the beginning of an unbroken wave surges around them.

 

Another wave begins to build, begins to curve, and Hau shouts, “Dive!” before he realizes he’s doing it. He’s grown up in the ocean, and even though this beach is as unfamiliar as it comes, the water is natural and calming and Gladion makes him feel safe, even if he’s on a somewhat strict employer/client relationship (which is looking more and more just like a relationship).

 

He dives into the cool water and hops Gladion’ll follow suit — miraculously, when he bursts out of the water, Gladion’s gasping beside him and all five of his glowsticks are still on. (They’d tied them with string as well, because Hau’s afraid of littering, but whatever).

 

“Hau,” says Gladion softly, warmly.

 

Hau looks over to Gladion, really looks at him for the first time this evening. He watches Gladion’s chin and shoulders bob up and down in the waves, watches Gladion rise to stand on the sand beneath the waves and snort — he’s, like, six foot something, so Hau shouldn’t be surprised.

 

His eyes are dark in the night, but they’re warm and alive and Hau’s wading over to Gladion before he realizes it. “Hm?” he says, a little belatedly, and listens to Silvally paddling out towards them. That dog is fearless.

 

“Oh, I just—”

 

They’re close again, close and Gladion’s eyeing Hau’s lips and Hau’s eyeing Gladion’s lips and they’re closing the gap between them, slowly, and Hau puts a hand on Gladion’s waist and Gladion puts a hand on Hau’s waist and it feels like his whole body is on fire, even in the cool water, Hau feels like he’s burning, and God, he wants to kiss Gladion so badly that he tilts his chin up eagerly and Gladion pulls them close and —

 

A wave crashes over them and they’re flung apart, spluttering as they’re tossed in the water and embarrassed as they rise. “Jesus Christ,” says Gladion finally and raises the bird at nothing in particular. “Jesus _Christ_.”

 

“Sorry,” says Hau, and laughs.

 

Even if he is frustrated, he realizes he hasn’t been this happy in a long time, and that’s enough, for now.

 

 

 

Gladion walks into his apartment late to find Lillie watching him with curious eyes. “Plumeria said you left early,” she says slowly, holding up her phone to indicate Plumeria had texted her.

 

“Are you telling me I was out past curfew?” responds Gladion cooly, though for some reason he does feel guilty. Like he’d been doing something elicit. Silvally yaps at his heels and bounces towards Lillie, who smiles down at the spotted dog and then looks back up at Gladion.

 

“No,” she says eventually. “I’m just…” Gladion’s looking for a fight, expecting a scolding, anything, but she just slumps and pats the chair next to her. “I made some tea?”

 

“Late at night.”

 

“I couldn’t sleep.”

 

She gets up to grab a mug from the kitchen and Gladion watches her receding form, tries to make sense of his evening. His heart picks up pace every time he thinks about Hau, how they almost kissed, how much Gladion wants so badly to kiss Hau. He’s still reeling from the revelation he’s — not in love, exactly. He doesn’t really know how to be in love. But somewhere close.

 

“Good evening, huh?” says Lillie suddenly, placing a mug down in front of Gladion. He glares at her for a moment, and she adds, “You were smiling.”

 

“I was not!”

 

She looks over at him and laughs, takes a sip of her own tea. She looks tired, though, like she hasn’t been sleeping recently, and he cocks his head at her. They’re always trying to read each other, aren’t they? She’s watching him, too, with a knowing expression, and he sighs.

 

“You’re right,” he says, and spreads his hands. “You can gloat. I have a thing for my fake boyfriend.”

 

“The one you met on Craigslist,” she adds just to annoy him. Lillie’s green eyes twinkle, then pause. “What are you going to do?” There’s an unspoken question there: _is that why you left early?_

 

Gladion doesn’t bother to answer what’s gone unsaid. He shrugs. “I don’t know. Fire him, or whatever you do to informal boyfriends-for-hire. I can’t—” for a moment, he entertains the idea of asking Hau out, of dating him, of all of that. He can see their future vividly for that moment, can imagine being in love with him. He shakes his head. “It’s unprofessional.”

 

“It was hardly professional in the first place,” says Lillie. “Plus, I think he likes you.”

 

Gladion thinks, _he almost kissed me, so,_ and makes a face in Lillie’s direction. “I don’t know what else to do. I mean, what if he was just humoring me because I was paying him? What if —”

 

“Gladion, stop.” Lillie’s quiet again, annoyed. “Ask him out, or don’t. But don’t leave him, or yourself, in limbo.”

 

He can’t help himself. “Like you and Moon.”

 

She doesn’t respond to that, just stills. “I think I’m going to go to bed now,” she says finally, tight-lipped and pale, and grabs her mug. She doesn’t even look in his direction, just flicks her long hair behind her shoulder and walks out gingerly, and he realizes for the first time how painful her relationship with Moon really is.

 

“Lillie, wait—” he says, but she doesn’t even turn around.

 

 

 

Gladion doesn’t call, or text. Hau sits at his phone for the first few days, waiting, still electrified by the _almost_ of their relationship. Moon tells him to give up after the first twelve hours or text first, though Gladion nearly always texts first. “You can get another job,” Sun tells him and Hau realizes how little Sun understands the situation.

 

It’s annoying, at first, and then sad. Because Hau — Hau doesn’t exactly like being insulted all the time or cold looks or being tested by random rich people, but he didn’t exactly mind it, either. He’d gotten used to it, gotten used to the confusing ins and outs of being Gladion’s almost-boyfriend.

 

He doesn’t let himself sulk, though. He never has. He studies a little harder for his exams, spends more time in the university library. He goes out more, busies himself. Takes Moon to the beach and tries not to remember an almost-kiss and a speckled dog. He even folds and stuffs Gladion’s presents into a corner in his closet. Everything’s — _fine._

 

He’s going to be fine.

 

If he doesn’t talk so much anymore, or if he’s becoming an environmental science robot — well, that’s okay. He’s going to be fine. He doesn’t know how else to deal with this, but he’s not going to let someone he didn’t even have time to fall in love with break his heart.

 

Hau does his best to move on. It helps that break’s coming up and he’ll go visit his grandfather soon, and it helps that to compensate for a break, school is kicking up in intensity. It helps that he works some shifts at a coffee shop and that Moon seems content to complain about the Mohn siblings when he needs to.

 

He’s going to be okay. He is.

 

He’s not going to let his heart break over Gladion, of all people.

 

 

 

Ignoring Hau is somewhere between _terrible mistake_ and _necessary._ Gladion doesn’t mention it to Plumeria, just sits by her and sighs and her soft eyes can tell the rest, that something’s gone wrong. “Did you fight?” she says, like she really, honestly believed they were dating.

 

“Something like that,” says Gladion, and somehow that hurts more, not being able to tell her. “I don’t know.”

 

“We should get shitfaced,” responds Plumeria sweetly and Gladion laughs brokenly.

 

Something in him is falling over backwards and crumpling. He can’t believe he’s losing his grip over some _boy_ he barely knew. He keeps telling himself that, that he barely knew Hau, that Hau barely knew him. It doesn’t help.

 

So Gladion’s falling apart and Lillie’s not talking to him. So he gets a little drunker than he should in Plumeria’s company. So he sometimes forgets to eat and tries to focus on his degree, but he’s bordering failing in two classes.

 

So. He’s not really sure what to do.

 

“Just text him, Gladion,” says Plumeria finally.

 

It’s been two weeks. Gladion doesn’t even know what to say, except maybe _I’m sorry._ Maybe that’s all Gladion has to say. “I can’t,” he responds, shrugs. “Let’s get shitfaced instead.”

 

“Fine, but I’m going to find him on instagram.”

 

 

 

Two weeks pass. Then three. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Hau gets a job at a pizza place and he’s okay with it, really, even if his heart still jumps every time he gets a notification on his phone in hope. He’s just starting to move on and accept his very surreal love life as past, when —

 

Well, a familiar lanky blonde walks through the door, locks eyes with Hau, and stands stock still. His eyes are red-rimmed, like he’s been sleeping less than usual and something in Hau’s chest akin to worry surfaces before he can stamp it down. “Um,” says Hau, “What can I get you?”

 

Plumeria’s on Gladion’s arm. So much for that, Hau supposes. Maybe he’d misread that whole situation as well. Maybe he’d misread everything. He’d just wanted to be — special. Plumeria looks over at Hau and runs a hand through her pink and yellow hair, sighs. “You boys,” she says, finally. “I’m going to get the three cheese, to go.”

 

Gladion frowns over at Plumeria and then clears his throat. Hau watches as Gladion licks his lips and feels his stomach catapult, he’s so nervous. He can’t even figure out _why_ he’s nervous. He wasn’t sad. He _wasn’t._

 

“I’ll…” Gladion looks at Hau again with an unreadable expression. “Hm. Do they serve pineapple pizza here?”

 

Hau looks at him and opens his mouth. Closes it. Blinks. “Excuse me?” he says. Maybe he really didn’t know Gladion at all. He’d nearly been fired over pineapple pizza. When he looks over to Plumeria, she’s smiling at Gladion, too, like this is all according to plan, and now Hau’s _sure_ Gladion’s been abducted and replaced by a clone.

 

“I asked a question,” snaps Gladion and Hau straightens immediately. Any desire to tease Gladion disappears and he forces his customer smile over his face.

 

“Uh, yes, we do.”

 

“Okay,” says Gladion. “Can I have a pepperoni and a pineapple to go?”

 

Hau blinks. “Do you want both to go?” he says, trying not to sound confused. Maybe Gladion just has another friend who likes pineapple pizza. He’s not sure what’s weirder: Gladion eating a pineapple pizza or Gladion making a new friend. He’s not exactly sure how Gladion even made _one_ friend, even if it is Plumeria and she’s a mess.

 

Gladion’s cheeks go dusty red and he looks a little embarrassed. “Just the pineapple pizza. My friend works here and I’m going to save it for his break.”

 

“Oh?” If Hau wasn’t jealous by the way Plumeria hangs on Gladion’s (really, really) nice arms, he’s jealous now. He tries to fight down the emotion, because he’s not anything to Gladion except a was-been and an almost, but he can’t help but feel a little possessive. And betrayed by one of his coworkers.

 

Gladion looks at him and rolls his eyes. “Yes. His name is Hau and I owe him an apology.”

 

And Hau can’t breathe. “I — oh.” Pause. “My break’s in twenty minutes,” he says faintly. “Your pizzas will be ready in fifteen.”

 

And so Gladion finds a table and Plumeria leaves the moment she gets her box, kisses Gladion on the cheek. Hau swears she murmurs, “you got this” before she goes, but maybe he’s just hearing things. And so Hau waits, suddenly anxious. Because — _wow,_ Gladion’s here and apologizing and — and he almost forgets how long he spent convincing himself he wasn’t sad or heartbroken, because seeing Gladion there —

 

His pizza comes and Hau sits down across from Gladion. “I can’t believe you’ve bought me two pineapple pizzas,” says Hau and tries to smile. It’s awkward, though, and a little stiff, and he feels a bit wary Gladion’s going to walk out again.

 

“I’m sorry,” says Gladion. “I don’t know how to do this.”

 

“Are you going to walk out?” says Hau suddenly, because it sounds like Gladion’s breaking up with him and they never really dated, for chrissake, and he’s a little bit in love with him and — _oh._ Hau’s a little bit in love with the world’s most annoying boy. He tries to laugh, but it’s a little bit wonky.

 

“No, no, I just—” Gladion sighs, runs his hands through his hair. “I fucked up. With you, with Lillie. Speaking of, we have to get Moon and Lillie to—”

 

“Are you going to pay me for that, too?” says Hau and laughs again, but it doesn’t sound as funny as it did in his head and he’s trying not to cry. Because he’s feeling — _that_ — with Gladion and Gladion just wants to get his sister and Hau’s roommate together, and yeah, that’s probably wise, but he thought —

 

“Jesus Christ, do you take anything seriously?”

 

Hau blinks, stills. “Excuse me?”

 

Gladion looks over at him and glares. “You never take anything seriously. Can’t I have _one_ conversation with you where you act like this matters and you care? I’m trying to be nice, Christ.”

 

Hau can’t breathe. “Nice? You mean, the radio silence? The constant insults? The stoic front and the near-kisses? You think that was — that that was _nice_?” He’s trying to wrap it around in head, try to figure out how to tell Gladion he cares so much he worries his heart will burst, that he’s been bad at not-caring for so long, that he’s afraid to care and keeps doing it anyway.

 

Gladion gets up suddenly, slams his chair against the table and Hau rises as well. “So I’m at fault. I’m at fault because I was _paying you_ and I couldn’t tell if that was the situation where you just wanted twenty bucks or if you actually wanted to spend time with me, and it’s not like it was easy, Hau—”

 

“It was hard for _you_?”

 

“You don’t even care—” Gladion steps back and Hau moves around the table to step closer towards him.

 

“I don’t care? You’re the one who just disappeared and then turned up with _Plumeria_ — what am I supposed to _do_ , Gladion?”

 

“I don’t know!”

 

Hau’s chest is heaving. His head is dizzy and he hasn’t actually shouted at anyone in — years, really. He’s barely allowed himself to be this angry in years. And now his vision’s swimming with tears and he’s close to the boy he thought he was in love with and he’s trying not to cry when he shouts, “What do you want, Gladion? Why are you even here?”

 

And Gladion pauses.

 

Coughs.

 

They’re close enough to kiss, realizes Hau belatedly.

 

“I’m in love with you,” says Gladion softly, finally. The fight’s gone from his expression, the tension in his shoulders relaxed. “I’m — yeah, I’m in love with you, and I’ve—”

 

“Oh,” says Hau, and steps back. “Oh.” He doesn’t know what to do. He’s never been in love before, and Gladion’s a whirlwind and a disaster and a recipe for heartbreak, because Hau hasn’t forgotten what love did to his father, to his grandfather, to his roommate. Hau doesn’t think he can forget.

 

“Whatever,” says Gladion, seeing something in Hau’s expression Hau didn’t realize was showing. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

“Gladion—”

 

He’s already walking out.

 

 

 

Gladion goes to Lillie. He’s not sure why, except that he knows he has to apologize and that he wants to cry and he’s never felt about Hau the way he does and his heart actually hurts, his stomach actually aches, and he tries not to cry when he knocks on her bedroom door and waits for her to open it.

 

She does, looks at Gladion curiously, and then sighs. “You broke your own heart,” she says, and pulls him in close to her. She smells like his little sister, like their mother’s soap. Gladion wraps his arms around her small form and shakes.

 

“I don’t know what to do,” he says and feels stupid. Feels self-destructive.

 

“Tell me what you did do,” she says and pulls him to sit on her bed. “Tell me what happened.”

 

And he does. He tells her about Plumeria and stalking Hau while shitfaced and then being coaxed to apologize and the fight and being in love and tries not to cry. He’s never cried in front of Lillie before, or at least hasn’t since they were eight and someone pushed him so hard he skinned his knee. He keeps his voice level and feels a sense of cool detachment wash over him as he tells it. “I don’t think he ever loved me,” he says finally, tone gruff and uncaring.

 

“Oh, Gladion,” she says. “You left him in the dark for near a month.”

 

Gladion shrugs. “I know,” he says softly, uncertain of what to do now. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

  
She doesn’t respond, just takes his hand and puts her head on his shoulder. It’s like she’s being comforted as well. “I did the same with Moon, you know. I was so in love with her, and then when we moved—” she pauses and sighs. “We stopped talking. I can’t remember why, now.”

 

“Do you miss her?”

 

Lillie doesn’t say anything, just hums.

 

 

 

Moon’s the one to scold Hau. He doesn’t tell her at first, just sits on his bed and stares at his wall until she comes into his room and says, “Text him.” She’s never been much for words, but her point’s clear, and Hau hasn’t even told her he’s sulking about Gladion. Maybe it’s because he’s been sulking about Gladion for weeks now, anyway.

 

“He said he loved me,” says Hau finally, just as Moon’s about to leave.

 

Moon turns to him and sighs. “Text him, asshole,” she says and leaves.

 

 **hau (7:35 PM)** : thank you for the pizza

 **hau (7:35 PM)** : we should talk

 **hau (7:36 PM)** : like. over the phone

 

He’s expecting a long wait — Gladion doesn’t (didn’t) always respond right away. He usually responds more quickly the later it is, but Hau’s tired and sad. He doesn’t really remember what he wants anymore, out of their relationship, out of anything. He just wants to curl up and go to bed.

 

Unfortunately, his phone starts to buzz as he begins to drift off, and he checks the caller ID. Gladion. “Hello?” he says.

 

“Um. Hi,” responds a tinny Gladion and Hau is surprised to break into a smile just over the sound of Gladion’s voice, confused and lost and a little hopeful, maybe. Maybe Hau’s just reading too much into it. He’s not exactly sure at this point.

 

“It’s Hau.”

 

“I know. I was the one who called you.”

 

Hau feels like a stupid teenager who’s had a stupid fight with his boyfriend and the childishness of it, of what feels like an illicit phone call, rushes over him and he starts to grin. “Gladion,” he says, and decides he likes the way it sounds. “Gladion, I fucked up.” He’s feeling it now, the warmth. Gladion’s just a dumbass who can’t communicate, he thinks.

 

Gladion’s in _love_ with Hau. Hau’s never been in love before. “Hm,” says Gladion over the phone.

 

“Come over,” says Hau, and laughs. “Come over, and I’ll tell you a secret.”

 

Gladion coughs. “I’m outside, actually,” he says sheepishly, and Hau actually begins to crack up. “I drove over after I got your texts.” Still laughing, Hau throws on the nearest sweatshirt he has and jumps out of bed. Hau doesn’t even put on shoes, just races to his doorway in bright yellow fuzzy socks (they’re very warm!) and pauses.

 

He has a moment of surprise, over how fast he’s moving. Over how quickly he’s moved on from his sadness. “Are you stalking me?” he says over the phone and Gladion snorts. “Are you seriously outside?”

 

“Yes, I’m seriously outside.”

 

Hau doesn’t even _ask_. He’s not sure he wants to, anyway, so he opens the door and Gladion’s across from his, phone to his ear and bright red, dressed in old-man flannel pajama pants and what looks like a band t-shirt, except the t-shirt’s in Norwegian. “Don’t tell me that Plumeria gave you that shirt,” says Hau and smiles. He can’t stop smiling.

 

“Shut up,” says Gladion and his voice echoes over the phone. Hau drops his hand, tucks his phone into his pocket, steps forward.

 

“Shut up? I thought you _loved_ me,” says Hau teasingly, putting on a shit-eating smile. There’s something awfully romantic about Gladion showing up unannounced, about Gladion in the ugly yellow lamp-light and his pajamas, about Gladion looking awkwardly and expectantly over at Hau, about Gladion.

 

“I think you have something to tell me,” says Gladion, walking forward.

 

“Do I?” says Hau and steps closer as well. He snakes an arm around Gladion’s waist and grins impossibly wider, feels the heat of Gladion and the shape of Gladion and — _Gladion_ in his arms and God, it can’t get better than this, he thinks.

 

“Hau,” says Gladion in a high-pitched way and Hau smiles. Just a hand on Gladion’s waist is enough to make Gladion weak and Hau can’t breathe, because Gladion wants _Hau_ and something about being special makes his stomach do somersaults. “Please,” says Gladion quietly and Hau locks eyes with him.

 

His eyes are so green. “I’m actually in love with you,” says Hau, and it sounds more surprised than a revelation, than a confession. “I met you on fucking Craigslist.”

 

“Shut up,” says Gladion and leans in. “We’re never telling Plumeria, either.”

 

They kiss for real this time, soft and gentle and sweet, and all Hau can think to say afterwards, he’s so mindblown and in _love_ , fuck, is, “I actually got it right. Our first kiss was after a big fight.”

 

“Hm,” says Gladion, snorting. “And our second?”

 

“Right after our first,” says Hau, and kisses him a little harder, a little more surer this time.

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to emma & izzy for encouraging me & also the haudion gc lmao // if u wanna chat/kno where the boys end up hmu @nooreva on tumblr...expect a moonlillie fic in the next century (as i write at a snail's pace) that wraps up their storyline


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